


brother, our names will be stricken from the papers

by ThirdActLove



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Fix-It, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Order 66 (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdActLove/pseuds/ThirdActLove
Summary: The Clone Wars ended, and Rex buried his brothers.
Kudos: 8





	brother, our names will be stricken from the papers

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the Found: A Clone Wars Zine project! I had a blast working with everyone involved, and I'm so excited to share my final story.
> 
> The title comes from the poem "On Speaking Quietly with My Brother" by Jay Deshpande. The character death warning pertains to the canonical deaths from the end of The Clone Wars season 7, as this is a post-canon fix-it of sorts.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Enjoy!

The Clone Wars ended, and Rex buried his brothers.

He pulled bodies from the wreck, checking each for signs of life, and felt a small piece of himself slip away with each lifeless pulse. The air was thick and black. He and Commander Tano worked in silence. After the screeching, savage crash, it was almost peaceful.

But that was only an illusion borne of the settling dust. There was a brutality to that silence; something dark lurked on the outskirts of space, looming and gaping and ravenous. Commander Tano’s hands shook with the gravity of it.

Rex may not have understood all the nuances of the Force, but he knew how it looked on a Force-wielder when the balance was upset. And he was aware of how it affected him, even if he couldn’t access it. Malevolence crept more easily into his mind just as the smoke rose above the crash sight. The pressure in his chest was so heavy he thought he might crush his ribcage from the inside. He couldn’t cry because of the numbness, and he couldn’t rage because of the pain. Stuck in that in-between place, he looked to the horizon and sighed.

Rex turned away from the rows upon rows of empty helmets and full graves. Shouldering his pack, he moved toward their transport with a singular, duty driven goal. He would get Commander Tano to safety. Then, he would find the survivors.

He would find Cody.

Because Rex knew, as sure as he himself was standing, breathing, moving, and _alive,_ that Cody was, too. If Rex’s heart was beating, Cody’s was, too.

“Rex,” Ahsoka said softly.

It was the first either of them had spoken since they’d agreed to bury his brothers’ bodies. Rex heard Ahsoka’s voice like a warm embrace, as solid and gentle as the hand she laid on his shoulder. He’d already begun to remove his armor, so she felt even closer now, and her hand was the least violent touch he’d experienced in hours--days, even.

Rex put his hand over hers. “You know where I’m going.”

“Where _we’re_ going,” Ahsoka amended.

Rex frowned while Ahsoka smirked. It was that complacent, lopsided press of her lips that always used to get her in trouble with the older Jedi, particularly Generals Skywalker and Kenobi. The thought of them sent a fresh wave of nausea through Rex’s stomach. Acrid bile rose in his mouth as he keeled over, gagging.

As he went to wipe the mess from his face, Rex finally realized he was crying. He turned to find Ahsoka with the same silent tears flowing down her serene face--and Rex was struck by how much she had grown. There were more lines around her mouth. Her eyes were fiercer, yet far more guarded. Where was the hotheaded kid Captain Rex had met ages ago, a Padawan mouthing off to her Master on the battlefield?

It was all gone. Vanished, up in smoke. And Rex resolved to cling to every piece of goodness those flames hadn’t swallowed up. He picked himself off the ground, slowly stripping off the rest of his armor as he went. Those pieces he hid in a bag shoved deep behind the other supplies in their transport.

When he looked back to Ahsoka, both their eyes were dry.

Ahsoka pulled her cloak tighter around herself. Rex tightened the straps on his gear pack. His fingers lingered on the hard plastoid-alloy, struck by its strangeness. It felt as if it didn’t belong to him any longer, with its symbols of the Republic and its Kaminoan form. It belonged to the man he left behind in the dirt when they flew away from that mass grave.

The moon was mostly a wasteland. What few lifeforms they saw shied away from the salvaged Star Destroyer and disappeared altogether in its wake. Sighing, Rex passed a water canteen to Ahsoka and said, “Commander, I could never... “ He cleared his throat and ran his hand over the bandage on his head. “I could never thank you enough for what you did for me, and for my men.”

Ahsoka smiled. “You don’t have to thank me.” That smile widened. “All you have to do is stop calling me Commander, since the war’s over.”

“Yes, Commander.”

Two blue eyes glanced away from the horizon to narrow at Rex.

“...Ahsoka.”

She laughed at him, and he joined in, and suddenly they couldn’t stop. Rex clutched at his stomach as their laughter echoed off the metal frame of the cockpit. It was only when he turned to tell Cody another joke that he sobered. He looked at the empty space where his brother should be, wondering if he’d ever be able find him.

Ahsoka reached out to squeeze Rex’s hand. “Cody was with Obi-Wan. They could have figured it out like we did.”

Rex shook his head bitterly. “I want to believe that, but we won’t know until we find them.”

Ahsoka slowed down as they neared a shipyard. While she landed, she replied, “Obi-Wan would have left Utapau to find survivors, and he probably sent Cody back to Coruscant.”

“Then we start there,” Rex reasoned, gathering what few belongings they had. “We trade this piece of scrap metal and some credits for a ship with systems no one can track, and I’ll try to contact Cody once we land.” 

Rex lost more credits in the exchange then he’d planned, and the ship they were flying seemed just as likely to fall out of the sky as the cannibalized Star Destroyer had been, but they made it to Coruscant unscathed.

The city had not fared so well.

Ahsoka and Rex stared at the wreckage that was the Jedi Temple. It burned in shades of orange and white, hotter and brighter in the nighttime. Too afraid to be caught near the place, they retreated to a side of town General Skywalker always liked to use to obtain information during undercover missions.

It was quieter than usual. A place that was full of secrets usually was, but it was a scared sort of sound, a collectively held breath. As soon as they left the ship, Rex’s started to scan every corner.

Drawing her hood down further, Ahsoka whispered, “You need to cover your face.”

Rex nodded. Everything he owned was in a nondescript canvas bag, and his armor was still in the ship, but his face wouldn’t be so easy to obscure. Shop windows were closed, however, and all the vendors had pulled their carts from the streets.

It was luck that had him look the right way when a Rodian passed wearing a hooded brown cloak. Rex paid him generously for it, and then he and Ahsoka, two faceless strangers, wandered toward the worst cantina in Coruscant.

Rex knocked.

“We’re closed,” answered the gruff voice on the other side of the door.

“We’ll pay.”

Multiple locks clicked, chains rattled, and the hinges whined. Credits exchanged hands, they were led inside, and Rex leaned over the counter to murmur, “The city shines.”

“Blink twice and you’ll miss it.”

The bartender set a glass on the table, then filled it with ice cubes. A transponder fell in among the cubes. Rex nodded, poured everything in his mouth, and tipped generously on his way out the door, Ahsoka eyeing him confidently yet warily throughout the exchange. Eventually, silently, they reached their ship. Once safely inside, Rex spit out the transponder and cleaned it.

“What was that?” Ahsoka finally asked. Her arms were crossed, mouth twisted.

Rex knew without asking that she was thinking of Skywalker’s schemes. She was putting together when and how Rex might’ve learned to scheme, too. He put one hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder, and the other he used to wire the small tracking device into their navicomputer. He pressed a small blue button exactly two times, then watched as the tech took over the screen, blinking through hazy holograms until it projected a planet in the southwestern quadrant of the galaxy.

“Kashyyyk,” Rex said. It was more of a breath than a word. He curled his fingers into the cloak where it met his chest, digging his nails deep, trying to carve a space for air to release.

Ahsoka narrowed her eyes at the projection. “How does some random, shady stranger have a tracker on a Republic Clone?”

Rex smiled. “Commander Skywalker--”

Ahsoka groaned.

“Commander Skywalker took Cody’s armor once and used it as bait. He wore it, too. It was great.” He chuckled as he recalled how Cody had switched into Jedi robes and the disaster that that mission had become. “Anyway, we had to track Cody’s armor somehow. This is the only traceable link. I… I left it here for myself, for us. I said it was just a reminder of a fun day, but this was around when Fives, well.” Rex cleared his throat. “I’m glad I kept it.”

“I am, too.” Her eyes shimmered, and she touched his face. “Go find your brother, Rex. Now I have to look for mine.”

They embraced--a long, tight hug across their seats, uncomfortable yet comforting--and then Ahsoka climbed out of the ship. She pulled her white cloak down, drawing it tightly around herself until she was another faceless wanderer. Rex watched her go, a silhouette to a shadow to a spectre, and he idled on that street for a long time after she had faded away, grasping at the last images of her behind his eyelids.

War was a synonym for grief. The clones knew that. They were taught that; they were soldiers, after all, born and bred for a single purpose: fight. Die, too, but that was within the definition of fighting, wasn’t it? There was always a cost, as well as an expected compliance from the clones.

Rex did not know how much more of himself he could give. He was thankful, of course, for a purpose--this mission, finding Cody. He didn’t know who he was without that drive. But after… after, he hoped he and his brother could settle somewhere without strife or endless, senseless battles.

Those dreams for his future occupied him as he sailed through space. Rex was careful. He used infrequently patrolled hyperspace lanes, jumped less than he wanted to, and took a more convoluted route than he needed to. The journey took two days, and the stars stretched infinitely before him. 

When Rex finally arrived at Kashyyyk and dropped out of hyperspace, his heart lurched. The planet was surrounded by starships, all cannons aimed at the green surface. Rex set a gradual path downward and flew carefully to avoid drawing those starships’ attention--or worse, their fire. Thankfully, he passed undetected.

He weighed his options--landing at a station, or braving the dense forest--and decided the wroshyr trees were safer. The landing was rough, scuffing the ship, rattling Rex around until he was gritting his teeth and sweating, but he managed. He took a moment to orient himself before attaching the transponder to his wrist guard, pulling his cloak close, and jumping down from the cockpit.

The sky was… wrong. Where once the planet was blue, full of clouds and sun, this was fire and smoke, darkness and decay. Bile rose in Rex’s throat as images flashed across his mind: the crash, the gravesite, the freshly upturned dirt. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, only to choke on the falling ash.

They were burning Kashyyyk.

Wookie cries and war calls, strong and terrible, rang out. Rex ducked into the brush immediately. He spared himself a moment of acclimation, then crept toward the loudest voices. His heart pounded frantically. His cloak swept against brittle, fallen cones. Letting his feet carry him where the blinking transponder indicated, Rex stole through the shadows for an hour before he finally came upon a battalion.

It was a horrific site. Captured Wookies, chains clasped to their necks and arms, howled over the corpses of their fallen kin. The survivors were lined up by a firing squad led by clones. Rex, stepping toward the edge of the treeline, clicked off his safety. He took a steadying breath.

The sun caught orange and white armor, shining and streaked with dark blood. “Ready,” came a familiar voice.

“No,” Rex whispered.

“Aim.”

“No,” he said again, holding his weapon higher. 

“Fi--”

Rex set off a dozen or so rounds at the squad’s feet before Cody even finished giving the order. The 212th fell into formation behind their commander, a formation Rex knew well. He dodged and wove through the trees as he methodically shot each of his surviving brothers--superficial wounds, legs and feet to immobilize them, leaving only Cody standing.

“Show yourself!” Cody shouted. He aimed and fired, grazing Rex’s shoulder.

Rex cried out as the blast struck; the second he heard that sound, Cody stiffened. He lowered his weapon a fraction, stepped trepidatiously toward the forest, and asked, “Rex?”

Rex ran. He clutched at his injured shoulder, bolting over mounds of moss and dirt and charred bark, ducking as more blasts soared overhead. When he saw a clearing, he veered sharply to the left. Cody followed.

They faced one another, sweating and holding their blasters high as the sun beat down on them. Cody fired a few rounds before freezing. He took off his helmet, wearing a perplexed, panicked look on his face. Rex reached up to take down his hood, only to realize it had fallen during the fight. Without that barrier, his tears fell freely; he felt his heart reach out to Cody’s even as his soldier’s sensibility kept him rooted to the spot.

Rex’s hands shook. He dropped his blaster and flinched when it hit the ground, a metallic scrape that must have been seconds, but lasted for decades. He forced himself to look up from the weapon to Cody. Identical tears fell on a nearly-identical face.

“Brother, why?” Cody begged.

He seemed to choke on the words. His shoulders curled inward, and then he collapsed. Rex went to him immediately, though he waited until Cody nodded to pull him up from the ground. Then, Rex pulled Cody close, wrapping him in his arms as all the fear and anger subsided, fading into static behind the warmth, joy, and relief. He was overwhelmed to be holding his brother after all this time; after the waiting, the seemingly endless searching, the certainty that he was alive but the uncertainty about what had befallen him. He and Cody clung to one another. They wept.

Eventually, Cody pulled back to dry his eyes. He said, “I… I’m supposed to…” He gestured back toward the razed villages of Kashyyyk. 

“We don’t have to follow orders anymore. Rex placed his hand over Cody’s, gently prying his blaster from his grip. He clipped it to his own belt.

“You kept the tracker on my armor,” Cody commented, amused.

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Maybe I did.” He squeezed Rex’s shoulder. They both looked at the burning horizon. “I don’t know if I killed Obi-Wan. There was a part of me, right before it happened, and even while I was giving the command, that was thinking of you and Fives. I thought, if anyone could stop it, it’d be you.” He paused again, and they turned together toward the sunset.

“Come with me,” Rex offered, at the exact moment that Cody whispered, “Can I come with you?”

They hugged again, fiercely and without trepidation, both of them wondering where the sobs ended and the laugher began. Once they found the energy and the right path, they walked away from the generals, their orders, and their destruction.

Night had fallen when they finally arrived at Rex’s ship. As they boarded it, Cody asked, “Commander Tano?”

Rex grinned. “Ahsoka’s alive.”

Smiling, Cody said, “And so are we.”

Rex wrapped his arms around his brother once more, perhaps to convince himself it was true. Cody had said once, that in war, it was hard to be the one that survived. Of course it was; Rex felt the loss of every brother like a rock on his back, a perpetual pressure reminding him of both the Republic’s betrayal and his own failures. But he also carried with him every smile, embrace, laugh, and nickname, every odd habit, tattoo, and hairstyle. He also shared those burdens and beloved memories with Cody.

They joined the kindlings of a rebellion, fighting side-by-side for a cause they believed in against the tyrants that had so easily used, abused, and discarded countless clones. Other clones found and joined them, drifting away with time to retire even as Rex and Cody held fast to each other and the fighting. The Empire grew.

The Clone Wars ended, a new war began, and Rex bled alongside Cody every day, but not because it was what he was born to do. It was with love and hope in his heart that he carried on with the lucky few survivors.

It was with his brother.


End file.
